


Choices

by GoSherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, The Empty Hearse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoSherlocked/pseuds/GoSherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I woke up in the morning with this idea for a missing scene from The Empty Hearse in my head. It refused to go away so here you are. Hope you like it.<br/>Thanks as ever to Schmiezi and Davina from BBC Sherlock Fan Forum for beta-reading and brit-picking.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up in the morning with this idea for a missing scene from The Empty Hearse in my head. It refused to go away so here you are. Hope you like it.  
> Thanks as ever to Schmiezi and Davina from BBC Sherlock Fan Forum for beta-reading and brit-picking.

He took a deep breath after the cab had left and started to walk away from the shabby café. The coat weighed heavily on him. His nose had stopped bleeding and the crisp November air cooled his face. It had been a bizarre evening, weird and unexpected in its extreme. Maybe it would do him good to walk the whole way and try to sort his thoughts.  
Scenes played in his head like fragments from the silly shows Mrs Hudson used to watch in the afternoon. People whose feelings spilled over like bubbling saucepans on the stove, who cried and sobbed and hissed and fought and displayed their innermost secrets. Of course it was all a fake for the sake of cheap entertainment.  
This here had not been, though. No magic tricks this time. Well, he had pulled off that waiter stunt but then - after that - all had become painfully real. He did not exactly jump out of a cake but surprising John like that the very moment he wanted to propose - obviously, looking around nervously, waiting for his girlfriend, not paying any attention to the waiter - may not have been his best idea.  
Sherlock remembered his brother‘s words. It’s been two years. He’s got on with his life. And his own arrogant off-hand answer. What life? I’ve been away. He felt something akin to shame, an emotion he was not used to at all. He was still convinced that the whole plan had been right, that faking his death had been the only way to get at Moriarty and clean out his net, that John would have displayed his emotions and endangered the whole plan had he known what Sherlock had done, but -  
He remembered the moment Mary had mentioned that Sherlock would have needed a confidante. Not me though, was what he had read in John‘s face.  
The coat was getting heavier by the minute while he walked through the dark streets. He paid no attention to the traffic or the passers-by, the illuminated restaurants and shop windows, his London that was all around him. There was a strange sticky feeling on his back, something stinging but he chose not to concentrate on it.  
They seemed to get on well. Well, apart from her not telling John about his ridiculous moustache. He only hoped that John would heed Mary‘s advice and shave it off.  
Sherlock remembered the conflicting results of his deduction and chose not to dwell on them but on Mary‘s last words before she got into the cab. I‘ll talk him round. It seemed a bit pathetic to rely on this, to put so much trust in the one short sentence spoken by a woman he had known for about two hours. But what else was there he could cling to?  
He and John seemed to speak different languages, John not reacting the way he usually had when Sherlock lured him with the excitement of a new case. A headbutt had been his answer, the dull pain of which still pulsed through his skull. Before there had been the punch to his mouth - this time not avoiding nose and teeth he thought and smiled fleetingly when remembering the woman‘s words - and the attempt to strangle him on the Landmark‘s floor.  
Maybe he deserved it. He probably did. There had been so much pain in John‘s face, a pain Sherlock had wished to wipe away at once but he had been lost for words. For the right words. Which was so often the case. So he had chosen this silly joke about the moustache and then -  
He moved his shoulders to get rid of the stickiness. Not far now. Maybe tonight he would be able to sleep although he doubted it. 

“Forgot my key.“  
“You could have broken the door“, said his brother. “A thing you are quite adept at, as far I know.“ He let Sherlock in, looking quite relaxed with his shirtsleeves rolled up and a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Want one?“ He gestured with the glass and Sherlock nodded.  
“So he did not take it well.“  
“We talked.“  
“And you got punched. Your nose looks a bit funny, by the way.“  
Sherlock took a large sip and felt the warmth of the alcohol spreading from his throat right down to his stomach. “To be expected. He has emotions, after all.“  
“Not like you.“ Voice dripping with irony.  
“Not like me.“ Sherlock realised it had been a mistake to come. He was not in the mood for Mycroft‘s deductions, not tonight, of all nights. He turned to the door to get his coat from the hallstand when he heard a small sound behind him. His brother clearing his throat in a very strange way.  
“Sherlock.“  
“What is it?“ He was getting impatient to leave the house and be alone with his thoughts.  
“There is blood on your back.“

“A shame. Really nice shirt. Maybe a dry cleaner can save the jacket, though.“  
“I did not know you were into first aid“, he answered through gritted teeth.  
Mycroft was dabbing iodine freely on the wounds on Sherlock‘s back. “Basic knowledge, not more. How did it happen?“  
“Can‘t you deduce it?“  
“You fell on your back. As you are neither drunk nor incapacitated in any way I would say someone threw you over. Someone who was very angry and did not know about your injuries.“  
Sherlock said nothing.  
„You should show this to a doctor.“  
They both seemed to realise the irony in Mycroft‘s words but chose not to dwell on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. Thank you for reading.


End file.
